


Everything is Different

by socknonny



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, hand holding, it's all drowned out with kink, wow that isn't even an actual tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 05:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14442075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/pseuds/socknonny
Summary: Max is becoming the sister that Billy never allowed her to be. Steve notices.Somewhere, between nightmares and the strangeness of the night, everything changes.





	Everything is Different

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a particular mood lately with writing, so I'm sorry if my fics seem a bit samey...
> 
> In other news, this fandom is so lovely <3 This piece is really just pure fluff and comfort.

The first time Billy woke up to the sound of crying in the middle of the night, he ignored it. Whatever was keeping Max awake wasn’t anything to do with him, and after she’d tried to put a bat straight through his crotch, he wasn’t about to contest that.

But then morning came, and Max sat at the kitchen table with an expression that was so haunting and dead that Billy couldn’t deny the ache of recognition in his chest. She was silent the whole drive to school, staring straight ahead and refusing to rise to any of the barbs he threw her way. It wasn’t right; this wasn’t the Max he knew.

It wasn’t the Max he grudgingly respected.

He lapsed into silence, turning up the stereo and smoking his cigarette down to the filter with sharp, angry drags. That seemed to get more of a reaction out of her than anything else as she looked over at him in disgust. It sent a jolt of triumph through him. Whatever had happened, Max wasn’t broken.

The next few nights were quiet, and Billy almost forgot about it until it happened again. Muffled sobs broke through the silence of the house, and even if he hadn’t already made the decision to act, he wouldn’t have been able to ignore them. They were too loud. It was too early in the night, and his dad would hear.

He got out of bed and crossed the hall to Max’s room, tapping quietly on the door before entering and shutting it behind him.

Max shot up in bed and scrambled back against the headboard, eyes bright with tears but already flashing in anger.

“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed before he could speak.

“Shut up, Max,” Billy snapped urgently, leaning back towards the door and listening carefully.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Max stayed quiet and just watched him. Eventually, Billy decided they were safe. His dad hadn’t heard the sound for long enough to register what it was, to decide that it was a weakness that needed to be stamped out.

He turned back to Max, and for a moment the two of them just watched each other. Max was sniffling quietly, so far gone into her sadness or fear or whatever the fuck it was that she couldn’t stop, and it was so _fucking_ familiar that for second, Billy couldn’t breathe. How many nights had he done the same thing, far younger than Max, with no one around to help him.

A rising wave of anger grew in his chest. Why should he help Max? He’d always done it alone. No one had ever been there for him.

But when he tried to turn away, he couldn’t. He’d seen Max cry before, but it had never been like this. Haltingly, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, Max watching him the entire time like he was a monster about to eat her up.

“Don’t let him hear you cry,” he said, his voice so quiet that she had to lean in closer to hear him.

“Why not?”

“Jesus Christ, Maxine, do you need me to spell it out?”

He glared at her, and in the pale moonlight of the night he could see her eyes widen as they traced the bruises on his jaw and she joined the dots together.

“He wouldn’t.”

They were said with confidence, but the words were a question.

“He did to mom.”

Whatever Max had been going to say, whatever argument was already brewing, died then. Her eyes fell flat, something like fear flashing in them briefly before she lowered her head.

The night weighed heavy on them in those moments of silence. Billy could feel his face twisting into something unrecognizable, something with soft edges and muted colours, but he was powerless to stop it. Max watched him, eyes still red and glassy with tears.

“I’ll be quiet,” she finally said.

He nodded, propping his elbows on his knees and staring forward. He should leave now. His message had been delivered; there was nothing else for him to do.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

The silence grew thicker.

“If one of those little shitheads hurt you, just say the word, Max, and I’ll—”

“Billy!”

When he looked up, she was glaring at him, all trace of fear gone from sight.

“Don’t talk about them like that,” she hissed.

“Don’t defend them if they’re hurting you, Maxine,” he shot back, leaning in close so she wouldn’t miss his words. “You’re family now, whether you like it or not, and family sticks together.”

The words choked in his throat as memories of just how fucked up his family was went rushing through his mind. It threw him so much that it took him a few seconds to notice that Max had gone deathly white.

“What? What is it?” He reached out and shook her by the shoulders, truly worried for the first time.

“They nearly died,” Max whispered, and then she dissolved into tears again.

Billy stared at her, eyes wide, for several seconds before he was able to move.

“Max,” he hissed. “You’re too loud. Stop it!”

She kept sobbing. Billy wasn’t sure she could even hear him. His eyes darted to the door, panicked now, and he thought he heard movement outside.

It wasn’t going to be pretty if Neil found them here. There were few things he hated more than crying, and if he saw Billy comforting his step-sister instead of leaving her alone to handle it herself…

Max covered her mouth, but she was hiccupping now, the sound too loud to suppress. Billy ran his hand through his hair and held it there, gripping the strands so hard it hurt. In the brief moment of privacy his arm gave him, concealing his expression from the rest of the world, his face crumpled. He didn’t know what to do. He could walk away—leave and let whatever happened happen. At least he wouldn’t be here to make it worse.

But Max was uncontrollable, so far gone in her own misery and panic that the thought of leaving now made something painful open up in Billy’s chest. So, he took a deep breath and did the only thing he could think of, the only thing that had ever made a difference when he was little and there had still been someone around to do it.

He hugged her.

She stiffened in surprise, her hands going up out of reflex to push against his chest and free herself. He let his arms go loose, so she could break away if she wanted to, but he didn’t let go. After a moment, she gave in and collapsed against him.

“S’alright, Max,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the door where he thought he could still hear movement.

“Can you stay for a bit?” Max asked, her voice so quiet he thought he must have misheard.

He stared down at her, eyes wide and confused. But when he slowly, carefully, edged back up the bed so that he was leaning against her pillow, she followed him, curling up beside him like he remembered doing with his mom so many years ago. He stared up at the ceiling, lost in the privacy of his thoughts as he tried to fathom what alternate dimension he’d stumbled into.

That was the problem with the night. You only had to try something a little different for everything to change. The rules were different, and there was no going back.

Eventually, Max’s breathing evened out beside him. There was something calming about it, about hearing someone transform from feeling terrified to feeling safe.

He meant to get up and go back to his room, but it was warm here, and he didn’t want to wake Max so soon, and—perhaps most of all—it was nice sharing a bed with someone in such an unequivocally platonic way. Nothing was required of him—just his presence. That was enough. He was enough.

Before he knew it, his thoughts had drifted into nonsensical daydreams, the sensations of which mixed with the sound of Max breathing and the warmth of their shared space. Eventually, he stopped fighting it, gave into the warmth and the sense of peace, and fell asleep.

*

Things were different between them the next day. The soft edges of the night before had carried over into the day, and Billy wasn’t sure how to act around her. Every instinct screamed at him to lash out, take refuge in the familiar. But last night was the first night in a long, long time that he had felt at peace. He didn’t want to ruin that.

So he stayed silent, kept the radio low enough that they could talk if they wanted to as he drove Max to school. She didn’t say anything, but the silence was different. It wasn’t loaded with anything or filled with anger. It was just quiet—an empty morning with sleepy company in a country town far away from their old lives.

When Max got out of the car, she waved to him. Billy waved back, two fingers quirking at his brow as the smoke from his cigarette drifted across his vision. There might have been a ghost of a smile on her face then, but he couldn’t be sure, and then she was gone.

The same thing happened again that night, and Billy didn’t even try to make her talk this time. He just sat beside her and let her curl in to the crook of his shoulder until she’d regained some control again. Then they stretched out beside each other, arms pressed together, until their breathing fell into sync and the night faded into dreams.

It happened again the night after that, and the night after that again, until they had fallen into a routine without even realising it.

Billy wasn’t sure what was happening, but it made him feel warm and calm in a way that nothing else did. He’d never had someone who needed him before, who needed something so simple and yet so completely unattainable from anyone except him.

Sometimes Max woke up again in the middle of the night, tears already bursting free from whatever nightmare she had been trapped in. Sometimes Billy woke up too, but he was used to that and knew how to stay quiet even as his heart raced and his body screamed to run. Max never noticed the tears that rolled down his own cheeks, but her presence soothed him all the same.

These nights together changed something in the daytime too, though Billy couldn’t put a finger on what it was. It changed slower when they were awake, the sun chasing after the moon for once, but Billy was in no hurry to rush it. Sometimes he thought the other little nerds could sense it too, that they somehow knew things were no longer tense between him and Max. She was becoming the sister he’d never allowed her to be, and he could see the confusion on their faces every time they caught a glimpse of it.

Tonight, he was dropping her off at the Byer’s house. Some chaperoned sleepover had been arranged—another girl, Jane, was going to be there too—and she was more excited than he’d seen in weeks. He wondered, briefly, how she would go sleeping without him in the room, but the thought passed quickly. She had her friends with her; she didn’t need him.

She got out of the car and waved to him, a genuine smile on her face that he knew he was returning even without meaning to—he could see it on the faces of the three gobsmacked nerds watching them from the deck. He grinned at them and waved the tips of his fingers, cackling madly when the shock on their faces transformed into horror.

He figured that was enough fun for one night, but just before he reversed back down the drive, he heard raised voices. He’d thought that the BMW next to him had been empty when he pulled up, but now he realised the occupants just hadn’t left yet. He could make out Harrington in the front seat, arguing with the little curly-haired nerd. He watched them for a few seconds, but he couldn’t hear the words.

He gave up trying to listen in and drove off. Rather than go home, he drove the streets for a while, stereo blaring and his elbow resting on the open window. If he squinted, he could almost pretend he was somewhere else, on the road back to Cali or just driving somewhere in between, with a destination in mind but nowhere to be.

Instead, he had nowhere to go and a cold, empty house that was calling him home. He’d been so caught up wondering how Max would go without him that he hadn’t even considered how he would go without Max.

Eventually, when he’d driven in more circles than he wanted to admit, he accepted that he wasn’t going home tonight and drove to the quarry.

He’d thought it would be empty—the party was somewhere else tonight—but a solitary car was parked beside the trees. After a moment, Billy recognised it, and he nearly turned around and left.

Harrington looked over at him, and Billy made his decision, cut the engine, and stepped out into the night. The door of the Beemer wasn’t even locked, and Harrington didn’t protest when Billy slid into the passenger seat.

“And what’s a nice young boy like you doing out here on a night like this?” Billy drawled, dropping the seat back so he could lie down.

He could see the stars from this angle. White and bright and steady.

Harrington rolled his eyes. “If you’re meeting some chick out here, I’m going, Hargrove. There’s no way I want to stick around and hear you grunting and moaning.”

Billy laughed. “You should be so lucky.”

Harrington grinned. It was only small, but it was genuine, and it made Billy feel a little off centre. Until Harrington’s next words, at least, when it all made sense.

“What’s up with you and Max lately?”

Billy shrugged, already feeling slow and languid from the heat that radiated out of the AC. “You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“Small,” Harrington said, a hint of amusement in his tone along with something darker. “Red-head. Bit of a—”

“Hey, now.” Billy sat up.

Harrington’s eyes flashed with triumph.

Billy huffed a laugh and reached for his pack of cigarettes. “Fine. You got me. We get along now; that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.”

“Well eat shit, asshole. It’s all you’re getting.”

Harrington watched him light up, curiosity written all across his face. It was strange, since Billy had been certain that Harrington would want nothing to do with him after last November. Instead, the atmosphere was relaxed, calm. He wondered if maybe he was the one that was different.

“You’re not looking to fight me,” Billy muttered around the filter. “What’s up with that?”

Harrington’s brows drew together before lifting up in understanding. “You mean because you beat the shit outta me?” He laughed and held his hand out for the pack.

Billy passed it over wordlessly and watched Harrington light up.

“Nah,” he finally said. “I’ve got a pretty high tolerance for getting beaten up. Seems like I just end up friends with them, even when I lose my girlfriend to them.”

Billy’s eyebrows shot up incredulously. “You gonna expand on that at all?”

“Nope.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, smoke mixing with heat mixing with starlight. Billy wasn’t tired enough to fall into that state between sleep and awake, where reality swirled together with dreams, but he thought he might be able to if they stayed like this.

“Why are you out here, anyway, Harrington?” he asked suddenly, realising that while it made perfect sense for Billy to have come here tonight, Harrington was still a mystery.

Harrington shifted in his seat, eyes sliding down to the side. “Been having trouble sleeping,” he said finally, the fingers that weren’t holding the cigarette twitching restlessly.

He ran his hands through his hair, and Billy couldn’t look away from the movement, the way the moonlight reflected off the tips of his fingers and hair.

“I sort of got into the habit of talking to Dustin at night,” he continued, glancing across at Billy and smiling awkwardly. “Neither of us could sleep, and so long as we were quiet, we didn’t wake anyone else up.”

None of this was making sense, but Billy couldn’t help but wonder what had happened on that night back in November. He wondered if it was somehow related to the fact that three out of six of them couldn’t sleep now.

Harrington must have seen the confusion on his face because he suddenly backtracked and said, “They’ve all got walkie talkies, and now I have a walkie talkie—don’t ask—and me and Dustin keep ours with us at night so we can talk when we can’t… well, when we can’t sleep.”

Billy could read between the lines. He knew you didn’t stay up all night keeping a kid company if there wasn’t some serious shit going down, just like he knew there was very little in this world that could make Max cry.

Still, he didn’t ask, just took another drag. This wasn’t a night for questions; he’d save them for later.

“Dustin wanted to do the same thing tonight, but I refused. I’m not hanging around on a walkie talkie when there’s like five other kids in the room. He’s got company, so he’ll be fine, and I’ll… I’ll manage.”

That explained the argument Billy had witnessed back at the Byer’s house.

Billy watched him, taking in the anxious lines of his face and the way he couldn’t seem to just keep still, always had to be moving. He’d never noticed that about Harrington before. Maybe he never would have if not for tonight. That was the problem with the night; everything was different.

“Max can’t sleep either.”

Billy heard the words come out of his mouth as if from a distance, but he couldn’t stop them. Something in him wanted to say it out loud, to get a taste of what vulnerability must feel like before the sun rose and all his defences slotted back into place. Harrington turned to face him and waited.

“We’ve started sleeping together—not like that, Harrington, don’t be fucking disgusting.”

Harrington held up his hands in defence. “I wasn’t thinking it. She’s your sister; I get it.”

Billy narrowed his eyes but kept going. “Yeah, well. It’s nice, you know? Warm. Comforting.” He took a long pull of his cigarette and blew it out slowly, letting it cloud his vision and give him some kind of barrier between the next words. “Didn’t think I’d be able to sleep alone tonight, so I came out here.”

The silence changed into something new, something without the weight of expectation or pretence. They both needed something tonight, something unattainable beyond the borders of the car, something they both could offer.

Harrington stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray.

“I’ve got blankets on the back seat,” he confessed. “Quite a lot, actually. I thought it’d be pretty cold out here on my own.”

Billy’s mouth stretched into a grin. “I run pretty hot, Harrington. Wouldn’t worry about that.”

Harrington laughed, looking over at him with an unreadable expression before reaching back to grab the blankets. Soon, they were both covered up and warm, their breath slowly fogging up the window now that the AC was no longer running. It felt private in here, like they’d entered a space so far removed from the normal world that Billy no longer knew how he was meant to act.

A couple of the blankets stretched across both of them, along with their individual ones, and the heat from their bodies mingled together until it was as cosy and warm as Billy’s bed back home. But Billy missed the heat of a body pressed against his, and when he looked over at Harrington he could tell that Harrington was itching to talk, to break through the silence like he was used to doing with his nerd friend.

“You can talk if you want,” Billy said quietly. “I just might fall asleep.”

“I’m not sure what to say, honestly. It’s a bit harder talking to you than talking to Dustin.”

Billy snorted, the sound of Harrington’s voice already mixing together with the warmth and the fog on the windows until all his senses were wrapped up in waking dreams and he was drifting on the edge of sleep.

“I won’t bite,” he murmured, the words slurring together.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant that Dustin is normally the one who talks.”

“Ah.” Billy paused. “I’m not a big talker.”

The silence went on so long, he thought Harrington might have fallen asleep. But then he spoke.

“How will I know you’re there, then?”

Billy missed the heat of a body next to his, but there was a gear shift in the way. Fortunately, his sleep-addled brain had the perfect solution. He lifted his arm out from the blankets and reached over to take Harrington’s hand in his.

For a second, Harrington stiffened. Billy’s grip was loose, so Harrington could draw away if he wanted, but after a moment, he relaxed.

“There,” Billy said, the words sounding almost incomprehensible now. “I’m here.”

He thought he heard Harrington laugh, but he couldn’t be sure. He was tired. He wanted to sleep.

“Night, Harrington.”

Warmth mixed with the scent of Harrington’s cologne, different sensations shifting together, and it was nice. So nice. He felt at peace.

Harrington’s hand squeezed his, and then Billy was drifting into sleep. Harrington’s quiet voice was the last piece of reality that came with him, swirling into dreams.

“Night, Billy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading <33 I hope it wasn't disappointing that they didn't kiss, but I wanted to try showing how spending that night with Steve meant something different to spending the nights with Max, even if it didn't outwardly look different.


End file.
